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Hannibal Krauss
Hannibal Krauss currently is a chaotic neutral warlock. Within the Order of the Black Harvest and working to own his own endgame. =Description= ---- Within the layers of the elegent robes. A tailored marriage of Felweave and Dreadweave. Wrought together to create an immensly dark sight . There was an unsanctified noble who stands tall and proud. A dapper countenance was preserved through the ages in a persistent – macabre element. An unmarred and ostentatious mien all but bereft of empathy or desire; his skull, adorned with long onyx hair, free of imperfections. Pright at a frightening height, this dark sorcerer appeared touched by the sun's embrace. Listless and cimmerian - viridian irises ever churned in tempestuous swells, commanding subservience in those that dare lock eyes. The man before you would look scarred, not physically but mentally from years of torture and unending strife. The remainder of what was once a holy man now - caged within his own mind. Imposing, dark, sadistic Abilities / Combat See History for more information on his Abilities =History= ---- Born into a loving middle class household, his mother a tailor and father a sawyer, Hannibal was an intelligent and curious child. Attending services in the name of the Light weekly with his family as a child, it seemed a natural thing, when he came of age, for one of his intellect and desire to learn to enter the priesthood. Choosing one of the several orders the church supported was not an easy task for him but eventually he settled on one and became an acolyte. His natural abilities allowed him to advance quickly in the church and his innate curiosity led him to ferret out many secrets long thought lost among the tomes piled high in the Order's library. His propensity for locating hidden knowledge led to his being assigned to the Order's Inquisitor unit. A slight, bookish, young man, he was not deemed imposing by most, despite his rather lofty height. Given this, he found other ways in which to find the information he wished to know. Mild threats, forceful removal of teeth and nails, burns via hot poker or brands and general psychological terrorism were his stock in trade, in the name; of the Light, of course. Let the less intelligent and more burly inquisitors offer strictly physical punishment to those they questioned, Hannibal relied on his mind, and he got results. More than most, to the point he was deemed best used in the field where quickly finding information was of the utmost importance when it came to heretics and enemies of the Light. As the Inquisitor within his unit, consisting of fifteen other men and women from the order, most soldiers of one stripe or another, he was also their priest and commander. They were a tight knit group, free with a joke among themselves and constantly discussing the latest news both personal and about the church. They followed orders to the letter, never once questioning what it was Hannibal wanted them to do. On one such patrol, after months of traveling together as a unit, they had been tasked with assaulting a Horde stronghold. Given their position and relative safety, around dusk they camped, Hannibal going to gather tinder and wood for a small fire as they were well sheltered from prying eyes. It was while everyone else was setting camp and Hannibal was away that he heard a loud noise, as if the earth had opened and swallowed a mountain, or so it seemed at the time. Turning toward his camp he saw what he could only describe as a ball of pure fel energy falling from the sky onto the area where his team was camped. He ran as fast as he could toward the camp, hearing the sound of battle. As he crested a hill some distance from camp, what he saw froze him in his tracks. An Eredar was standing off to one side of the encampment, Unmistakable with it's red skin and enormous bulk. It was dressed in ornate black robes, and appeared to simply be watching what was happening in the camp, gesticulating from time to time. As Hannibal's gaze shifted from the demonic presence, he could see the smaller forms of his unit engaged in combat, not with the Horde, or any Eredar, but with each other. He could see Valanna's small form sidestep one of the men of the unit, Hernon, he thought, and stab him in the back with one of the wicked daggers she kept tucked about her person. Hernon fell limply to the ground and Valanna stabbed him again thrice more before another member of the unit relieved her of her head with a two-handed axe. Mere moments later it was over, the Eredar gesturing toward the loan remaining member of his team, a long tendril of shadow extending from it's hand and encircling the man's throat. Hannibal had to look on as the man slowly fell to his knees, appearing a mere husk of what he once was, even at this distance, his body appeared shriveled. Too far to do anything, Hannibal watched as the Eredar made another gesture and opened a portal in front of him, stepping through to who knows where. It all took place in under a minute, a show of power the likes of which Hannibal had not even known existed. At that moment, he vowed two things to himself and to the Light and to whatever gods might listen. First that he would avenge his comrades and second that he would seek to learn this power so that he may turn it against the enemies of the Light. The mission a complete failure, he returned to his superiors to give them a full report, notifying them that not only were they dealing with the Horde, the Burning Legion had entered the conflict as well, a third party preying on the conflict between the first two. As soon as he was able to find time alone and without eyes, he began to research the power that he had seen unleashed that day. He drank in any information he could find about the Eredar from their history to their magical affinity. Simultaneously he cautiously began to study shadow magic and demonic summoning. At first, he simply sought to find ways to combat these things but over time he became obsessed and this lead to him beginning to actually learn how to do these things figuring if he could do them he could counter or undo them. Months of reading tomes and searching out those who might be able to give him information, all in secret of course, eventually lead to months of practicing his newfound magic. An ever increasing thirst for knowledge of this dark art overtook him which lead to more time sequestered in learning. All of this eventually forced an investigation into all this alone time by his superiors. After so much digging and questioning, it was not difficult for members of the inquisitors of his Order to find at least some of the truth. Tipped off by an old friend within the Order, and feeling himself close to gaining the power he so desperately needed to accomplish his goals, he took the opportunity to leave the Order before being taken into custody. His superiors were irate. Knowing that he knew all of the tricks of the Inquisitors of the Order, and having come up with a few himself, the decision was made that rather than apprehend him and put him to the Question, it was better for all concerned if he were simply eliminated. Thus, he was banished from the Order and labeled an enemy of the Light. Despite all this, Hannibal managed to stay one step ahead of his pursuers. Sometimes he was alerted to who was coming for him and when, other times he could see the trap himself before it was sprung. Twice he had to resort to violence in the form of his new abilities in order to kill an assassin before they could get him. After about six months of being pursued, and after the Order losing two paid assassins, along with an increased Legion presence, the Order rescinded their orders to seek and kill Hannibal, instead listing him as Kill On Sight should anyone be in his presence. Despite everything he had been through and his months of studying atop his already considerable abilities in the Light, Hannibal was still unable to accomplish the one thing that he felt would put him on par with the Eredar, the ability to control the mind of another. As the Order had curtailed their pursuit of him, Hannibal redoubled his efforts to learn this dark art. After much fruitless searching a desperate Hannibal settled on a plan to visit the Nathrezim home world. The Nathrezim were known to be able to enter the minds of many individuals of a variety of species, in fact they were known to be the masters of such things. While overall the Eredar might be more powerful users of fel, and knew more varieties of magic, the Nathrezim were masters of psychic abilities, the one area where they outshone the Eredar's magics. He spent weeks researching the process to open a portal the the Nathrezim world, not even knowing if any still existed there. Hoping at the very least to find information on how they accomplished their considerable feats. Weeks more were spent acquiring all the items needed for the ritual. Finally, he was done and one evening decided it was time to do what must be done. He began the ritual and almost immediately he had a vision, a hooded man looked upon him as he performed the incantation to open the portal. The man watched him, he was a large man by the looks, well muscled and, perhaps tall, though that was difficult to tell in the vision. The man then spoke in a gravelly voice warning Hannibal that if he continued, things would not turn out as he wished. Hannibal continued the ritual, ignoring the mans stern warning, to which the vision simply stated that things were about to go terribly wrong for Hannibal. As the ritual finished and a nether portal formed between dimensions, the hooded man looked on as Hannibal stepped through the portal. What he found was not what he had expected. The home world of the Nathrezim was a wasteland. In the distance a lone tower could be seen, partially concealed by one of the sulfurous clouds that hung low in the sky. The whole world smelled of brimstone and molten rock. Vast stretches of the landscaper were open pits of liquid tar or lava, hardened obsidian formed most of the viable land on which to walk. Not knowing what else to do at this point and figuring that any knowledge to be gleaned from the area would probably lay in the tower, he set off in that direction, attempting to wrap himself in a holy shield for the journey. It was then that he realized he was more vulnerable than he had expected to be. Wherever 'here' was, the Light could not be felt. No shield wrapped itself comfortingly around him, he attempted a small amount of healing magic and found that this also failed. Finally he tried a bit of Shadow magic, conjuring a ball of darkness from nothing and throwing it at an outcropping as an experiment. As the sphere blasted into the rock, an explosion occurred, sending debris flying in all directions accompanied by a bass rumble so great that it could be felt in his chest. Realizing he was not completely defenseless, he continued his walk toward the distant edifice. As he walked he realized that there were living things here. Small winged lizard-like animals akin to protodrakes on Azeroth. Thin with two legs, scales and wings that were so thin they appeared nearly transparent against the rust colored sky. Spikes protruded along their backs and some had similar protuberances on their shoulders, legs and head. He noted at least three separate species of the animal, at least one of which seemed to possess the ability to exhale some sort of poison gas. They appeared to be preying primarily on a large beetle like insect. Nothing remotely resembling a mammal lived here by the looks, at least nothing that dared show it's face. As he moved along toward the tower he began to feel... something, probing his mind. While he had never learned how to control the mind of another, in his research he had come across information that allowed him to learn ways to guard against such things. As he drew closer to the tower the probing became more urgent and more aggressive. His pace slowed and he was forced to spend more of his time concentrating on his psychic defenses. After several minutes of this, whatever was assaulting his mind had pushed him further into himself, forcing him to stop and fend off the violation. During this time he stopped paying attention to his surroundings and was taken by surprise by a lesser Nathrezim. The creature descended swiftly from the sky from behind Hannibal, wrapping his thin form in it's powerful arms before making it's way to the tower by air. During the flight to the tower it took most of Hannibal's concentration to keep fending off the attack on his mind. It wasn't until he was thrown into a cell and heard the door lock behind him that the furor in his mind stopped and he was able to really take stock of what was going on. He was in a small space with a high ceiling. Set into the curve of the back wall about 15 feet in the air was a barred window opening to the outside. It was difficult to tell from where he was standing but he didn't think there was any glass in the window judging by the light draft in the room. Across from the window was the door he had just come through, a stout wooden affair with what he believed to be iron bindings judging by the rust. Inset in the door was a small rectangular opening about four inches in height and ten inches long. Aside from the window and door there was a small cot of sorts and what seemed to be the skeleton of one of the small drakes that inhabited the area. For days, then weeks and finally months, he was confined to that cell never seeing another living thing aside from whatever was pushing his meager food rations through the hole in the wooden door. As someone who had seen what isolation could do to break a person down he made certain not to fall into a malaise. Once in a while he would feel the other presence in his mind, probing, though not really assaulting him as it had previously. He made certain that whatever the being attacking him wanted they were not going to get it even if it killed him. Late one night, he was certain it was night, the room was pitch dark, he was jerked awake by what felt like a hot knife tabbing him through the head. Quickly he raised his psychic defenses but this left him physically vulnerable and while he was otherwise occupied, he felt his physical body picked up roughly and moved. After a while the hot knife feeling began to abate and he found himself strapped to a large steel table, arms, legs, and chest bound by thick leather straps to the main body of the furniture. He took the scene in, whatever had taken him into this room had left before he became more physically aware. There were implements of torture spread around the room, along rows of tables along the wall and hanging from hooks pounded into the stone. Most he recognized, a few he did not. Had he not been the one on the table, Hannibal may have taken some comfort in the accouterments of the room. As it was, he steeled himself for what he knew was to come, vowing to himself that they would not break him. After what seemed an eternity but was likely less than an hour by his reckoning, knowing that time passed more slowly when one was left alone with their thoughts, a Nathrezim entered the room. It was large, taking up a good deal of the room, much taller than Hannibal's near six and a half feet, probably close to eight or nine feet tall he guessed. It was quite muscular as well, appearing like it could easily rip Hannibal's arms from his body if that was it's desire. “You have done well at shielding your mind from me, much better than I would have anticipated,” It said looking down at him with it's demonic eyes. “It seems you have some practice at controlling your thoughts, we shall see how far this extends at some point, but this is not that day, today we shall see how your body handles physical stress and whether that will assist your mind in giving up it's secrets.” The thing sounded almost clinical in it's description, something Hannibal actually appreciated. It was the detachment of someone simply doing a job, there was no malice involved here, Hannibal had information this being wanted and he was going to extract it. “I've gleaned a bit about you, despite your prowess at keeping most things a secret from me. I know, for instance, that you are here alone and that you know what is about to happen to you. I don't think you know just how bad this is going to be for you; I don't think you realize how much pain I am about to inflict upon you.” “I wish to know what you know about Azeroth and it's inhabitants. What you know about the Burning Legion and it's current state on that Light forsaken rock from whence you came, and you are going to tell me,” It said matter of factly. For his part, Hannibal remained silent, simply staring at the demon. The Nathrezim went to a table, returning with a small pair of pliers, he lifted Hannibal's right hand, but rather than attempting to remove a finger nail as Hannibal had expected, the demon put the jaws of the tool around the end of the middle finger and squeezed, crushing the small bone within along with the nail. There was no blood, simply the flattening of the end of his finger. Physically, Hannibal let out a primal scream at the at the pain. Mentally he was retreating into himself much as he had when the being had attacked his mind. He compartmentalized the rational part of himself, sealing it away from the physical pain his body was enduring. The Nathrezim took each of his fingers one by one and crushed the ends of each, each time eliciting a scream from the young man. Still Hannibal said nothing. The demon simply nodded, “Tomorrow will be worse,” it promised and left the room, Hannibal still tied to the surface. At some point he was taken back to his cell by a smaller Nathrezim and cast inside, fingers still mangled. The next day, Hannibal awoke to find his fingers healed. After a while, he was fed and then came the pain in his head and the movement only to find himself strapped to the same table from the day before. The larger demon again entered the room. “As you have noticed, we have healed your wounds, I do this not to comfort you but so that I may do the same thing to you once more if I feel like it. Your physical response was gratifying. However, if you tell me the information I wish to know you will be put to a quick death, I promise you that much.” Still Hannibal did not speak, retreating into himself once again as the demon began to work on his torture. This time his chest was cut along one rib, the plier-like tool inserted into the opening and a rib forcefully torn from his body, hanging grotesquely from his side. Another was torn the same way, then a third, each time he screamed. At some point, his body could no longer function and he lost consciousness. He awoke sometime in the night, his wounds once again healed, his head in a fog. He could hear someone in the room with him. Opening his eyes just enough to peer about, he saw a hooded form standing by his bed. It appeared to be vaguely transparent, as he opened his eyes, he realized it was the same hooded man from the vision he'd had while opening the portal to this world. Now Hannibal could see just what an imposing figure he really was, he had to have been every bit as tall as Hannibal but he was easily twice as wide, even the robes he was wearing couldn't conceal just how muscular the man really was. “I hate to be the one to say I told you so,” came the man's gravelly voice mirthlessly, “But I did tell you.” Hannibal simply nodded. “Good, you know when to listen now, that is an improvement. I can teach you the ways of the Nathrezim and I can teach you the other magics that you seek but you must listen and learn. Do not question what I teach only listen and learn, and when I am done, you will be able to escape this place on your own. This will not happen quickly and you will endure much pain in the meantime, do you understand?” Again, Hannibal nodded. “Good,” the man stated. “Tomorrow night you begin your training; we will train both your mind and that scrawny body of yours. You must however, Banish the Light from your mind.” For two years, two long, miserable hate filled years, Hannibal endured the torture of his body and mind. Each night the apparition of the hooded man appeared in his cell, teaching him what he desired to learn and forcing him to likewise strengthen his body. Two years before he had his chance at freedom; by now nearly as thick with muscle as the hooded man. Late one afternoon, his normal guard appeared at his door, by now any pretense he had of escaping he'd let slide in an effort to glean all the information he could from the hooded man. Hannibal and the Nathrezim had settled into a dance of sorts. Each day he would be lead to the torture room where he would be strapped to the table and have unholy things done to his body while the large Nathrezim tried to pry his secrets from him. For the demon this had become mildly amusing and for his part he had mostly given up actually learning anything from Hannibal, instead taking delight from the torture itself and the physical manifestations of his pain; the way his body contorted, the screams ripped from him. As he was strapped down the large torturer entered with one other demon, making three in total in the room. Hannibal looked inquisitively at his main nemesis who smiled. “Today is a milestone and for that I have brought witnesses. Today is the last chance you have to speak, to tell us what you know, for today the Legion begins it's assault on your precious Azeroth. After today anything you know will be meaningless. As you have brought me some amusement, I am going to give you this last session and last chance to speak then tomorrow I will allow you to witness the beginning of the end of your home world before I slowly rip your head from your shoulders with my own clawed hands,” As always, this was a statement of indisputable fact rather than a threat. “last chance for a quick painless death, boy.” The demon shrugged as it began to choose which tool to use to bring pain to the man on the table. As it went along the rows of torture implements, Hannibal knew this would be his own last chance at freedom. The Nathrezim had yet to attempt to probe his mind and so he reached out with his own psyche and latched onto the two smaller demons in the room. He could feel them fight against him but the hooded man had trained him well and he quickly crushed their will under his own, forcing them to set upon their leader. Fists flew, claws gouged the large demon who began to retaliate. It was rather obvious that the larger of the three could not quite handle the two smaller demons and he retreated out the door covered in his own blood. As he did so he locked the chamber from the outside, bellowing for more of his underlings to assist him. Quickly, before they could attempt to fight back, Hannibal had one of the Nathrezim under his control strangle the other while he forced it to be still before having living demon untie him. With some trepidation, Hannibal lashed out with his own magic, a bolt of shadow flying from his hand, impaling the still conscious demon through the skull sending bits of bone, blood, and brains cascading across the room. It was then that the hooded man appeared. “It is time you make your escape, I will find you when the time is right,” said the man before vanishing. With that, a portal appeared out of nothingness in the room and Hannibal made good on the hooded man's words, leaving the tower behind him. He stepped through the portal and into a small wooded glade, the white walls of Stormwind could be seen a mile or so in the distance. Despite his assistance in teaching Hannibal, he knew the hooded man knew more than he had ever taught Hannibal. This was something Hannibal knew he could not allow to happen, promising himself that if he ever did cross paths with the hooded man he would find out the man's secrets one way or another, even if he had to siphon them right out of his brain. A year, and many battles later, Hannibal was gathering his gear in the early morning light. He had taken up residence on the Broken Isles and was on his way to assist with the assault on Argus itself. As he passed by a mirror in the room where he was staying he looked in and adjusted his hood over top of his head. “By the Fel,” He said looking at himself, “It's ME!” (( OOC Notes: Given his time spent fending off the psychic assault of the Nathrezim, Hannibal is basically immune to mind controlling effects that take complete control of his mind. Some things may be gleaned from attempts at control before he is able to enact defenses against such: His most recent thoughts, perhaps some bit of his history, etc. He has become quite adept at shielding his psyche from assault, and it's therefore unlikely that you could get anything from him he doesn't want given. Things like a Sleep spell are effective as they are as much about biology as anything, a Mind Control spell would likely fail, however. )) Faction -Order of the Black Harvest -Alliance Title Lord of Eyes Bishop of Decay =Personality= ---- Hannibal is a very arrogant and elegant man, he is calculating and does not rush to judgement. He prefers to watch others fight eachtother and advance his own agenda before dirtying his own hands. He is wise beyond his years and a master of manipulation. Beliefs Hannibal is a devout follower of the Order of the Black Harvest, however he believes in himself more than anything. Quirks A light germanic accent Relationships Category:Characters